Untitled as of this Point
by xxdiexforxyouxx
Summary: This story contains torture, unpleasantness, and fucked up Harry with a hero complex, under the assumption that noone can die and come back without at least a few issues. I don't find it sexy, and hope you don't either. This is an "eighth year" fic, so it doesn't follow the epilogue. I hope it will have a fulfilling ending, but I can't promise anything. I'm sorry.
1. Chapter 1

This one will be unpleasant, and is currently unfinished. New chapters will be added (to this post) whenever I get them written/typed. This is kind of a dark story, so be prepared.

oOoOoOoOo

He dug his teeth in, tasting blood, drowning in the pained noises the body beneath him was making. He shoved thighs apart roughly, stretching them until the muscles screamed in protest. Smiling cruelly, he shoved into his partner- no preparation, no lube, nothing to ease the way. As the body whimpered beneath him, he licked a stripe across the bruised shoulders, tasting salt and fear, before setting up a punishing pace.

"Is this how you want it, you filthy whore?" He grunted out, slamming into the still body, so rough it made his thighs ache on impact.

The body, out of self-preservation, stayed silent. Needing more struggle, more resistance, he wrapped his hands around the pale neck, still bruised from his previous mistreatment. He squeezed tightly, strong fingers overlapping, the shallow gasps coming from his victim spurring him on, pushing him closer, until, as the life started to fade from those empty grey eyes, he came. Groaning, he bit his partner on the jaw, marking him, his hips thrusting roughly. With a pained spasm, the body came too, knowing the consequences of not finishing on command. With a luxurious stretch, he pushed off from the body, releasing its tortured throat. He gestured at his softening cock, still damp and shining with his own release.

"Suck it clean," he directed, forcing the body to its knees. Without a flinch or sound of protest, that talented tongue covered his cock, complacently doing as it had done so many times before. When he was satisfied his point had been made, he pulled it away with a fistful of hair. With a look of disinterest, he began inspecting his partner's wounds. His fingers pressed cruelly into the wounded flesh, pressing it into discoloration, begging for a reaction. The body at his mercy didn't respond, having learned long ago not to react to his teasing torments. Smart. He chuckled, though it wasn't a pretty sound. He ran his fingers over the blank face in mocked tenderness, then pressed his fingers roughly into the newest bite-mark he'd inflicted. The body flinched before it could stop itself, its expression travelling from pained to fearful to resigned.

"You should be thanking me," he demanded coldly, as his fist connected with those tired eyes. "Thank me. You needed it."

The broken voice whispered as instructed, "Thank you. I needed it. Thank you."

He tossed the body to the floor, turning his back. "Now get out. I've had enough of you." He didn't bother to watch as his 'lover' pulled on a threadbare cloak, the figure cowering and averting its eyes. There was no need to guard his back against something so broken, so hopeless. He allowed himself a chuckle as it limped out the door, not once looking back.

oOoOoOoOo

Draco limped his way back to the dungeons, beaten and world-weary. His vision fogged and warped, leaving him leaning heavily on walls and banisters for support, his voice sounding faint and distant as he whispered the passcode to the dungeons. He slid through the common room, up the stairs, and had almost made it to his room when he fell heavily, landing roughly on the cold cobblestones. He lay there for a full twenty minutes before they found him.

"Draco?" Pansy asked softly, dropping to her knees beside him and reaching a hand towards his shoulder. He let out a small groan in answer, and she muffled a sob. "We'll help you," she promised, petting his back soothingly before slipping away to fetch Blaise. Between the two of them, they got him into his room and closed the door. Without comment, Blaise helped him stand, a silent support whilst Pansy removed his cloak and helped him into his pajamas. They laid him out on his bed, mindful of his pain, and Pansy bit her lip. "It's... really bad this time, love. Please… Are you sure we can't take you to Pomfrey, or McGonagall? Snape? Please?"

Draco shook his head tiredly. "It doesn't matter. Could you just... Will you hand me that jar?" He indicated a crème on his nightstand, the slight movements of the gesture making him hiss his agony. Pansy reached for it and unscrewed the lid, dabbing it on his cuts as she always did, her touch gentle and practiced.

"Can we at least cast some healing charms?" She pleaded, as she always did, and as always, he refused, saying, "I can only use Muggle things. He finds the irony fitting, you see."

Pansy choked out a sob when she saw his neck, paler than ever and marked with dark handprints. "One of these days he's going to **kill** you!" She whispered, smoothing her hands over his blonde locks the way his mother had as a child, in a way that promised to chase the nightmares away.

Draco looked up at her brokenly. "What can I do? He saved us all. I owe him."

Blaise handed him some aspirin, then a hand-held mirror, face serious with concerns. As Draco examined the damage- blacked eye, broken skin from biting, dark bruises everywhere- that he would cover with a glamour the next day, Blaise shook his head.

"We owe him _nothing_. He's become worse than the monster he conquered. You may have owed him once. Now, he just owns you."

oOoOoOoOo

He walked down the hallway, people turning to greet him with respectful, if not very enthused, nods. That was alright- as long as they knew their place, he didn't care about their enthusiasm. He'd long since learned the lesson Voldemort preached- It's better to be feared than loved- making it his own practice, a final salute to his worthy opponent. He owned this place now, owned this world, and he _would _have respect where due.

Passing students in Muggle clothing- after the war, he had adjusted the dress code, the first of many things he'd changed- he entered the Great Hall. He did so just as Draco and his friends were leaving, and felt a burst of vindictive pleasure as they stepped aside for him to pass, eyes averted passively. His pleasure sparked again when, looking back, he saw Draco limping painfully, swatting his friends away when they offered support. He always tried his hardest to break his favorite toy, just as Draco's side of the war had once tried to break him.

It seemed only fitting that it was so.

Satisfied and self-righteous, he approached the Gryffindor table with confidence. The other students rushed to clear him a spot, brushing crumbs from his seat, which he sat in, exuding smug superiority. At once, the other Gryffindors began to offer him heaping trays of treacle tart- his favorite dish, now served at every meal- and a nervous-looking third year passed him a bottle of Butterbeer. He shot her a look of cool disgust, and she hastened to open it for him. He kept his gaze on her until she burst into frightened tears, terrified in the face of his disappointment.

As her friends led her away, sobbing, he looked around in satisfaction. He then dug into his meal, classmates hovering, waiting for him to need something, anything. He ate, filled with a sense of smugness.  
Everything was different now.

oOoOoOoOo


	2. Chapter 2

The previous chapter has been changed slightly. Nothing major has changed, but I have reworded things and it might be worth a look.

oOoOoOoOo

When Draco limped into Potions, his first class of the day, Potter's sidekicks had already settled into their seats, which were- naturally- right behind his desk. They were discussing Harry's new position- due to circumstances after the war, he was no longer a student, opting instead to occupy the post of Defense Instructor- but stopped as he approached, gasping at the sight of him.

Despite his pride, he was now leaning heavily on Pansy, whilst Blaise carried his bags and silenced anyone who mouthed off or made mention of it. Pansy led him to his seat, casting a furtive glance around before casting a cushioning charm on the hardwood chair. Draco lowered himself onto it, wincing slightly, thankful that he had arrived early and the classroom was mostly vacant. He straightened up, glancing at his friends, silently asking if his glamours had held up. Pansy bit her lip and turned away, while Blaise nodded and cast another masking charm on the bruises that had begun to show through.

He was just starting to relax, despite the pain coursing through his body- a plight he was becoming, unfortunately, increasingly accustomed to- when Hermione Granger tapped him on the shoulder.

"Malfoy?" She asked hesitantly, her eyes dark with something looking suspiciously like concern, "are you okay?"

"Yes, Granger, I'm fine. Better than fine, actually. As a Malfoy and a pureblood, I am utterly perfect in every way possible." Draco tried for his usual superior, snarky, and sarcastic nonchalance- which, since the war, had become just another mask he wore- but only managed to sound tired.

Undaunted by his attempts to anger her away, she continued, "Did you pull a muscle or something? You've been limping all morning! Do you need the hospital wing?" To Draco's alarm, she sounded concerned.

"Been watching him walk, then, have you? Bug off, Granger," Blaise cut in, intent on defending his friend from nosy Gryffindors. "He's not interested."

A look of sickening realization crossed Weasley's face, and he nudged Granger, whispering, "Probably his boyfriend or something *_mumble mumble* _too hard, yeah? *_Mumble* _bloody ponce, I knew it." She flushed as scarlet as his hair, while Draco grew still, turning white. He ripped his chair tightly, and let out a hysterical laugh.

When the flashed him a confused look, he continued on in a slightly crazed voice. "Right. My boyfriend. Nothing to worry your innocent little Gryffindor heads about! HA! Everyone knows the Gryffindors are **always** the good guys!" His eyes grew wider as he laughed again, causing Pansy to jump and begin giving him small, frantic shakes. "Draco," she hissed under her breath, "please, love!"

Blaise stepped in front of his chair, blocking him from view, casting a warning glare at the Potter Pals, but Granger doggedly continued, "Is something the matter with Malfoy? Has he been cursed?!"

"Stop it," Blaise hissed, "you're not helping. Stop it!"

"How can I help, then?" Her face took on an earnest look, the one she wore when she began one of her stupid charity projects.

Pansy's sick laughter sounded from behind Blaise. "There's nothing you could do, Granger! There's nothing any one of us can do. Not now, not anymore, not ever again!"

She opened her mouth to comment, but was cut off as Snape finally entered the room, followed by the rest of their classmates, who had been gossiping out in the halls, stalling entering the dungeons. Sighing, she dropped the subject for the time being, resolving to as Harry for help figuring it out later. He would understand about Malfoy's sick laughter and his friend's cryptic comments, and surely he would know what to do about it. Harry was so good at solving things, after all…

oOoOoOoOo

Class passed without event, a difficult new potion and Snape's constant vigilance keeping Granger from her interrogations. Although he cast his godson a few questioning glances, Professor Snape didn't question his silence and his pallor, and Draco was able to slip out at the end of the lesson, leaving the room unhindered.

oOoOoOoOo

Hermione watched as Malfoy limped ahead of her, catching himself in the doorway of the Defense classroom. He and his friends sat it the very back, steadfastly ignoring her attempts to catch their eyes. With a sigh, she sat next to Ron in the front of the class, waiting for Harry to begin his teachings.

He spent the whole lesson lecturing about the Ministry and its many- in his views- failures. He ignored the Slytherins in the back, focusing his attention mostly on his friends. He yelled, he slammed his fist, he spoke with a fury, and he criticized the Government until the bell rang to dismiss the class, at which he scowled and turned away.

As the class began packing their bags, Hermione headed up to Harry's desk.

"Hey, Harry! Great lesson. How's being a professor going?"

Harry grinned at her, replying, "I've taken quite a few points from Slytherin- well deservingly, I might add. Good day all around. And you?"

Hermione glanced around, lowering her voice. "Actually, Harry, speaking of Slytherins… I was hoping to talk to you. I think there's something really wrong with Malfoy!"

"Besides what's usually wrong with the berk?" He snorted, and she scowled at him. "Harry, you're a teacher now! And this is really serious!"

"Oh?" He inquired, feigning interest on the outside, his blood boiling in anger on the inside. What had that bastard done now?

"Yes," Hermione said obliviously, looking up at him in concern, "I think someone's been hurting him! He's been twitching like he's under some sort of spell, and I think he's using glamours! I'm really worried about him."

Harry patted her on the shoulder reassuringly, saying, "Don't worry, 'Mione. It's probably nothing. I'll talk to the bloke if you'd like, and then you'll see there's nothing to concern yourself with."

"Thanks, Harry! I knew you'd have the answer!" She beamed up at him, grateful, then skipped out of the classroom, dragging Ron behind her. Harry grinned after her, then turned to the corner where Draco and his friends still sat.

"Mr. Malfoy? Would you remain behind, please? I'd like to have a word with you.

oOoOoOoOo


	3. Chapter 3

I promise that soon the story will get to the point, and be somewhat less torture-oriented. My apologies, unless torture is what floats your boat, in which case, float away.

oOoOoOoOo

Draco and Pansy exchanged looks- hers nervous, his resigned- and she took his bag from him, silently ushering Blaise into the hallway. The empty classroom echoing with the sudden silence, Draco turned to Harry, knowing that his friends would be waiting for him right outside.

"Yes, Professor?" Draco asked, limping forwards cautiously, knowing there was no escape.

"Lock the door. Cast the charms." The orders were delivered in a flat, cool voice. Biting his lip, Draco cast _colloportus _on the door and a barrier charm on the walls, then setting his wand down on the desk and awaiting Potter's orders. No one would hear him now. No one would come to his aid, not that he'd been expecting it. He'd given up on hope long ago.

"Come here. On your knees."

Draco dropped to his knees in front of him, his jeans providing little comfort on the rough stone floor, already resigned to whatever was about to happen.

Potter reached out and seized a fistful of his hair. Grasping cruelly, he used it to pull Draco's head back, forcing him to look up at his master.

Draco did, frightened by the extremity of the anger he saw there.

"She wanted to know what was wrong with you. Hermione. What did you tell her, you stupid slut? **Answer me!**" He shook Draco with every word, to accentuate the seriousness of the situation.

"Nothing!" Draco groaned, "She saw me limping! She saw my glamours. I told her nothing!"

"I don't believe you. Why were you limping?"

Draco bit his lip, agonizing over his answer, knowing it would damn him regardless. Finally, in response to a particularly violent tug on his hair, he spat it out. "You're too rough. You know I can't lie!"

His tormenter gripped him by the throat.

"That's not it, is it, my little slut? You're just not getting enough of it. In fact, you probably want it rougher, don't you? You probably want me right now." He looked down on his prey, eyes glinting dangerously with unspoken threats.

Draco shuddered hopelessly, whispering out in monotone, "I'm not getting enough. I want it rougher."

He smiled cruelly down on him.

"Excellent. That's what I thought."

oOoOoOoOo

Draco staggered from the room forty minutes later, dragging his left foot behind him. He gasped for breath, blood bubbling down his chin from where he'd bitten through his lip. Upon seeing him, Pasy and Blaise hastened to his side.

"Merlin," Pansy whispered, turning white, "did he break your ankle?"

Draco shook his head, laughing hollowly Pansy opened her mouth determined to assess the damage, but Blaise shushed her. "We've got to get him to his rooms first. Not here, Pans." She nodded assent, and they supported him between them, leading down to his room in the dungeons.

Blaise moved to lay him on his back, but at his pained gasp, he lowered him onto his stomach instead. Stepping back, it was his turn to gasp.

"Draco… Your back is bleeding. Your shirt's soaked through…" Pansy whispered, tears in her eyes.

"Yeah." He fumbled in his trouser pocket, the gesture made awkward by his position. "He gave me some band-aids. Generous, he is. Here."

Pansy and Blaise exchanged horrified looks, then she took charge. "Okay, Draco. We're just going to get your shirt off and- Oh, what happened?"

His back was covered in lashes, oozing blood, and showing muscle in places.

"Draco, _no_."

"Like Blaise said," Draco whispered, smiling a haunted smile into the pillows, "He owns me. And what do you do when your property misbehaves?"

"But you didn't!" Pansy began, outraged. "It was that Hermione Granger!"

Draco rolled his shoulders in response, his back arching from the pain a moment later. Pansy drew a deep breath, then began sponging off his back, trying desperately to stifle her sobs. Blaise, meanwhile, moved down to the foot of the bed, kneeling at Draco's feet.

"What's wrong with your ankle, Draco? Broken, sprained, twisted?" He queried, injecting a false calmness into his voice. Inside, though, he panicked. They couldn't hide a broken bone, not without using magic on it. Draco, though, chuckled humorlessly. "It isn't the ankle, Blaise."

When he refused to expand on that, Blaise turned his attention back to his foot. Easing off the Dragon-Hide loafer, he caught his breath. His friends sock was wet with blood. He peeled the sock off, holding his breath, and turned white when he saw the skin beneath.

"Pans?" He breathed weakly, before falling to the floor, sick.

Carved into the sole of Draco's foot, the word "worthless" oozed angrily, marked deep into the flesh.

oOoOoOoOo

"Oh, Draco," Pansy began, biting her lip and reaching for her wand.

"Don't." His voice was quiet, but his serious tone stopped her. "It'll be worse if you do. Besides, it's not that bad, not really. I should be thankful he left my toes attached."

Blaise came back from the washroom, still pale and sweaty, shaking slightly. He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at his friend. "What do you want us to do, Draco? You can't walk like this."

The tortured Slytherin looked up from his pillows, a confident look on his face despite the pain evident in his eyes. "Could you please wrap it up for me? I'll be fine, truly. I always am."

Pansy shook her head. "Draco, you **can't** walk on this. No!" His attempts to assure her otherwise were silenced by a simple look from Blaise. Grapping a fistful of gauze, he pressed it lightly to the sole of his friends foot.

Draco cringed, biting into his pillow to keep from screaming.

Pansy shook her head. "I'm sorry, Draco, but we can't fix this. Not this time. We need help. _You_ need help. We need Professor Snape."

Draco looked up from his pillows. When he saw the pleading and compassion in his friends eyes, he nodded his consent, watching sadly as she ran off to find their mentor.

He relaxed back into the pillows as Blaise finished sponging off his foot.

"I'm sorry, Draco," he whispered. "We tried to keep this between us, because you asked us to. But things can't go on like this. I'm sorry."

oOoOoOoOo


	4. Chapter 4

When Pansy returned to the room with Snape, Draco had maneuvered his battered body into a sitting position, his foot up on a stack of towels. When Snape saw his condition, his eyes widened, the only indication of his horror and concern.

"What has happened to you, Draco? Miss Parkinson told me only that you had been hurt."

Draco felt a surge of warmth as his friends love for him registered, then looked up at his godfather, drawing in a deep breath to prepare himself.

"Repaying my war debts. Got in a bit over my head." He aimed for nonchalance. He missed.

Snape raised his wand and removed the glamours, stripping the spells away all at once, revealing darkening bruises over yellowing ones, bite marks, and hand prints so varied in age around his throat the colors made up a collage. He inspected his godson's wounds, then shook his head sadly. "I might have known he'd go mad."

"What? Me?" Draco whispered, alarmed and hurt by the implications.

Snape gently stroked his brow, a move that showed Draco how concerned he really way- normally his godfather was distant, both with his actions and his emotions. He must truly be worried about him, to show his love so openly, and in front of others, no matter how close they were to him.

"No, Draco. No, not you, never you. Potter, our precious _savior._" His voice twisted the word, making it into a verbal sneer. "Before Albus passed on, he told me that Potter and the Dark Lord shared more than we might see. He was searching for certain… truths, and had begun to suspect that, when Potter faced him that final time, he may have welcomed the final splinter of the Dark Lord into himself. Not his soul, or even his power, but simply his understanding of our world. He feared that when Potter died out in the forest, he lost pieces of himself, and that he accepted the evil to fill those pieces in. He's not so much of a Gryffindor, now."

Draco chewed his lip. "Is that how he lost his magic?" He asked, looking up at his godfather. "Why would he make that trade?"

"He would not have meant to." Snape looked grim, his eyes distant. "The night the Dark Lord killed Potters parents, he implanted a fragment of himself. Unintentionally, and- we believed- unknowingly. The headmaster had begun to suspect, as the war drew towards its conclusion, that he had learned from his mistakes. That he may have engineered a final assault against the boy, using his mistake as its base."

"So… So is HE controlling Potter, then? Possessing him?" Pansy gasped, but Snape shook his head.

"No. Merely encouraging his dark side, I believe. Dulled his inner conscience, promoted his selfish indulgences. The fragment of the Dark Lord would not contain HIS will, just his lack of empathy. When Potter allowed its integration with his own soul, when he welcomed the evil into himself, his magic closed itself away. The evil inside him made him unable to harness the pure good of his magic. That's why the _savior_ is now a Squib."

Snape looked his godson over seriously. "Draco, how long has this been going on? Why didn't you come to me at once?"

Draco winced, retreating back into his pillows. "Since the night the Dark Lord faced his final defeat."

Snape drew in a harsh breath. This had been going on much longer than he had first guessed. He nodded assurance at Draco, who continued shakily, "I didn't tell you because… Because there was so much suspicion focused on us, after the war. And he had so much power. I didn't think… I knew no one could help me. So I made a deal, and one that I'll live with. It was all I could do to protect us."

"What do you mean, Draco? Did Potter threaten to hurt your friends if you let on he'd hurt you?" Snape asked, resting his hand calmingly on his godson's shoulder.

He shook his head. "You don't understand. I went to him, that night. I _begged_ him to give us fairness. To use his influence to keep the innocent out of Azkaban. They would have locked up Pansy just for suggesting we turn him over to the Dark Lord, you know. They would have punished you, Professor, even though you'd been on the side of good the whole time. I told him I'd fill any price, if he'd protect the people I loved. And it was worth it."

"Draco!" Pansy gasped, "You mean…?"

"He isn't raping me. I said I'd let him. That's why I can't let you heal me, Professor Snape. This is for you, for all of us. This was his price, the price I pay, for what he did for us to save us."

Snape shook his head. "There must be something we can do. We could tell people. It's too late for Potter to change his mind now, now that the laws have passed and we have been forgiven in the courts. And we could fix him. I'll start the research right away. And if all else fails… We could kill Potter."

Pansy and Blaise nodded in agreement, and Draco gave them a shocked glance.

"You would kill the Chosen One for me?" He whispered, eyes wide.

"We would do anything for you, Draco, when you've done this much for us," Snape said, "But let us hope that it will not come to that. It would be better for all of us if we could simply remove the bit of soul from Potter. Let us work on this first."

Draco looked at his friends, feeling hopeful for the first time in months.

Maybe things would be okay, after all.

Spirits lifted slightly, they began to plan, discussing what they would do about his latest injuries. He felt better, safer, with his godfather on his side, though his soul and body both still ached.

oOoOoOoOo

(Thoughts so far? Is it too soon for them to begin planning? How long should I aim to make this? All feedback appreciated, and thanks in advance.) 


End file.
